The sound of shattered glass rang in Fiore’s ears, mingling with the distant, muffled voices of two men in heated argument. Slowly, her senses returned as a dull, persistent ache spread through her body. Her eyes fluttered open, stinging from the sterile light above, and she instinctively lifted her arm, noticing small shards of glass embedded in her skin. Confusion clouded her mind as she looked around, trying to piece together what had happened.
Her gaze fixed on the large container she had been placed in—an oversized tank that was now shattered, its contents spilled across the cold floor. Then she noticed the broad back of a man standing between her and Reginald, shielding her from view. The world around her felt distant, but she forced herself to focus.
“L-Lance?” Her voice came out
